


you gotta promise not to stop when i say when

by riyku



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Breathplay, M/M, Manhandling, Painplay, Prostitution, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riyku/pseuds/riyku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things you can’t tell your best friend, your doctor, or even your lawyer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you gotta promise not to stop when i say when

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for hookerfic, rough sex, manhandling, rimming, mild painplay and breathplay. Written for [this prompt](http://transfixeddream.livejournal.com/147309.html?thread=3953773#t3953773) over at [](http://transfixeddream.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://transfixeddream.livejournal.com/)**transfixeddream** ’s commentfic fest. Title ganked from the Foo Fighters. Many many thanks to my darling lily for finding all my whoopsies. This was supposed to be a writing experiment. Two hours, one thousand words, post and done. Um. Four hours, a day in editing, and 2.5k later...

The place is elegant, the top-floor penthouse suite in the cushiest hotel in town that Jensen’s company keeps on retainer for their highest-level guests. Italian leather furniture, dark mahogany everywhere, tastefully framed prints on the walls, numbered and signed by the artists, enormous plate glass windows and the entire panorama of the city stretching out below. It probably costs the company a cool couple hundred thousand a year, but Jensen doesn’t think too much on it. Anyway, that’s what he pays the accountants for. The equation is simple: nice things cost money, and really nice things cost even more. Jensen has a preference for really nice things.

He drops ice into a tumbler, pours an inch of scotch over it and swirls the drink to water it down some as he kicks his shoes off and strolls over to the window, picks out his building among the tall towers of metal and glass. It’s the same view that he gets from his office, different angle.

He’s only two small sips into his drink when there’s a knock on the door. It’s quiet, sounds like hardly more than a couple of fingertips scratching on the other side, still makes Jensen jump though. The ice clinks against his teeth as he drains his drink, trying to cool the hot knot of anticipation in his stomach.

Thumbing open the lock, Jensen gets the door cracked barely a sliver before someone pushes it open from the other side. It sends him off balance, trips him backward until his shoulders collide with the wall, and then Jared’s towering over him, hands planted on either side of his head and a leg jammed roughly between Jensen’s thighs. Jared kisses him, tongue slicking inside deep and filthy right from the start, punctuated with a quick roll of his hips against Jensen’s crotch.

“You sure are pretty,” Jared says low and smooth, enough of a Texas accent to make him sound like a good ol’ boy. It’s unexpected, and the slow slur of it makes Jensen’s blood run hot, so does the wicked twist of Jared’s mouth and the dark amusement that sparks in his eyes.

The agency had come well recommended. Professional, accustomed to fulfilling the unique requests of the high and mighty, and above all incredibly discreet. Jensen had made his first inquiries a week ago, and within a day an unmarked package had been delivered by private courier which included rap sheets and photographs of a dozen likely candidates. Jensen had chosen Jared for his height, the fact that the guy claimed he could bench press three-twenty, the size of his hands and the glossy photographic evidence of the thick length of his cock. Jared’s dimples, his smile, the way he commands the space he inhabits and the clean smell of his skin are all just a bonus. The icing on top of a goddamn impressive cake.

“Nothing--” Jensen starts, and it comes out as a feeble rasp, shaky with want. He licks his lips, clears his throat, tries again. “Nothing visible above the collar. Other than that, have at it.”

Jared hums against Jensen’s temple, catches his earlobe between his teeth with a sharp little nip that weakens Jensen’s knees. “I know,” Jared whispers. He rips his t-shirt over his head and lets it fall to the floor, and Jensen has to bite back a moan at the sight of all that muscled, tanned skin spread out in front of him. “I read up on you, and I’m a quick study.”

There are some things that you can’t tell a person on the first date, or hell, maybe not even on the tenth. _Hi, I’m Jensen Ackles. I’m a Pisces. I enjoy long walks on the beach, a good merlot, and occasionally I like to get fucked so hard that I can’t walk straight for a week_ is definitely one those things.

Of course there’s more to it than that. Jensen’s not one prone to navel-gazing or armchair psychology, usually has a lot more productive things to fill up his time. He’s a whiz kid, earned his MBA from Wharton at the ripe age of twenty, managed to dodge the dot com crash by some miracle, and now is the president and CEO of a company that landed on the Fortune 500 just last year. He’s the guy everyone looks to for the answers, has a dozen personal assistants who are paid to say yes to him. Most of the time, he’s good with it, likes to be the one with his hands on the controls.

This is not one of those times.

“A quick study, huh? Prove it,” Jensen says, and grunts as Jared yanks open his shirt, buttons skittering across the floor. Jared leaves a trail of sloppy kisses down the center of his chest, latches onto Jensen’s nipple and traps it between his teeth, tugs and licks at it while he twists the other one between his thumb and first finger. The sharp, little jabs of pain settle into a warm pool in Jensen’s gut and he clenches his jaw, instinctively arches against Jared, desperate to ease the building ache in his cock.

“Not so fast,” Jared says, and spins Jensen around so quick that Jensen goes dizzy with it, finds himself with his face pressed to the wall, both of his wrists held above his head, trapped in one of Jared’s huge hands as Jared shoves at his pants with the other, letting them puddle at his feet. Jared bites down on the curve of Jensen’s shoulder, swirls his tongue across the sting of it and starts to suck, drawing blood to the surface. He grinds against Jensen’s ass, slow and dirty, fingers like claws digging into the flesh of Jensen’s lower stomach and leaving long red welts. Jensen can’t get enough of it, loves the scrape of Jared’s belt buckle, the way Jared’s jeans scuff up his heated, over-sensitive skin, the hot line of Jared’s hard dick nudging between the cheeks of his ass.

“You feel that, baby?” Jared says with another hard thrust. “You feel that? It’s all for you. Want you so bad. Wanna split you open, make you take it.”

On some level, Jensen knows it’s an act, a series of well-rehearsed lines that Jared uses on all his clients, but there’s a tremor in Jared’s voice that goes straight to Jensen’s dick, a hushed desperation there that makes Jensen think that somebody ought to be giving this motherfucker an Oscar.

Jared kicks at Jensen’s legs until he’s splayed open, pulls at his hips and pushes at his neck until Jensen’s bent at the waist, forehead pressed to the wall. Jensen’s heart starts to thud, blood rushing like a bass drum in his ears and he closes his eyes, prepares himself for the delicious pain that will come with the first, hard shove of Jared’s cock into his ass. He gasps, shivers as Jared palms his ass and spreads him wide, then flattens his tongue on Jensen’s rim, sucks and licks at it with an obscene smack of his lips, tugging at Jensen’s hips and burying his face in his ass. Jensen feels exposed, entirely on display, his cock a heavy, leaking throb between his legs. He thinks that it can’t possibly get any better than this. A second later, Jared proves him wrong when he sinks his thumbs into Jensen’s body and stretches him wide open. The immediate, burning ache eases off as Jared wriggles the point of his tongue in, fucks it in and out, all slick and slippery and wet.

“Fuck. _Fuck,_ ” Jensen gasps as his orgasm slams into him, fast and searing, come streaking the wall, landing in spatters on the floor, and goddamn but it’s been years, _years_ since Jensen’s come without his hand or someone else’s on his dick. His knees start to buckle and he has to lock them in place, drags in a shaky breath and tries to ground himself.

“Would you look at that?” Jared says, mouth catching on Jensen’s rim as he speaks, and damn if he doesn’t sound smug.

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” Jensen reminds him, grappling at the wall to keep himself upright.

“Fair enough.” Jared chuckles and stands, and there’s the distinct clink of his belt buckle hitting the floor, followed by the even more distinct slap of Jared’s cock against the small of Jensen’s back, the wet drag of it along the cleft of his ass.

The haze of Jensen’s orgasm is starting to fade, a whole new wave of relentless desperation building right on top of it. “C’mon, Jared,” he pleads, cants his hips and slides his ass up and down the length of Jared’s cock.

“Bossy,” Jared says, almost conversationally. “I guess I should have expected it.” He backs off, and Jensen can hear the sound of foil ripped open, smell the chemical scent of latex, and then Jared’s spinning him around again. He has only a second to look at Jared, see his swollen, puffy mouth and the shiny mess of spit on his chin before Jared hooks his hands around Jensen’s thighs and urges them around his waist, pins Jensen between his body and the wall and slams inside of him in one enormous, powerful thrust.

It steals Jensen’s breath, turns his mind into one huge, echoing blank. Nothing exists except for the white hot sensation of Jared’s thick cock splintering him apart, the width of Jared’s shoulders as Jensen scrambles to hold on, the burn of Jensen’s back stuttering against the wall as Jared fucks inside of him, forces himself in all the way, as far as he can go.

“Feels so good, baby. So fucking tight,” Jared mutters, muscles in his back bunching as he lifts Jensen up and drops him back down on his cock. “Knew you’d be tight for me. Knew it.”

Jensen’s already hard again, cock trapped between their bodies, sliding against their sweaty skin and leaking a steady stream of precome. He releases his grip on Jared’s shoulder and tries to get a hand in there, but Jared stops him.

“No you don’t. That’s on me,” Jared says, then takes Jensen’s full weight in his arms, walks them over to the bed and all but throws Jensen down on it, pulling out so quickly that Jensen almost cries out at the sudden absence. He looks down at Jensen, a bright flush burning on his cheeks and his hair hanging over his face in sweaty strands. “Everyone wanted you, y’know. When we found out that you were our newest client. We all know who you are, and everyone wanted you to pick them. When I found out it was me--” He cuts off, works his way down Jensen’s stomach, scratching and nipping at Jensen’s skin, licks a wide stripe along the underside of Jensen’s cock and Jensen almost loses it again, just from that.

Pushing Jensen’s legs apart, he worries at a specific spot high on the inside of Jensen’s thigh, grinding the flesh between his teeth, switching it up with long, heavy sucks that leave Jensen’s skin a deep, violent purple. He presses his thumb to the bruise and says, “This is mine. My spot. You can choose whoever you want next time, but I want you to save this spot for me. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jensen breathes and reaches for Jared, hands shooting out to bring him in close for another kiss. He doesn’t get what he wants, but he’s alright with that. Instead, Jared stands, pulls Jensen down until his ass is almost hanging off of the bed, hooks Jensen’s ankles over his shoulders and fucks into him again with a thrust that makes Jensen’s nerves light up, makes him shiver, shake and squirm, clench down tight on Jared’s cock. Jared tips his hips back, and the next time he shoves in, his pushes a finger in alongside his dick, and then another.

It’s perfect, the burn and stretch so exquisite that Jensen can only throw his head back, tangle his hands in the sheets and hold on as Jared finds his sweet spot and stays there, nails into it over and over and over until Jensen’s a writhing, pathetic mess, legs trembling and mouth spilling out nonsense, begging for release. Jared falls forward, forcing Jensen’s legs up to his chest, and Jensen can’t get a full breath. Spots start to float over his vision and his ribs creak under the onslaught, his lungs on fire. The lack of oxygen, the lack of _control_ only makes it that much better. Jared wraps his hand around Jensen’s cock and jacks him rough and fast and exactly right. Jensen can’t move, Jared’s weight bearing down on him from above and he doesn’t have the breath to put up a fight, can only wriggle and moan as he comes, weak pulses spattering his stomach and Jared’s.

Jared’s getting close, Jensen can tell by the way his hips hitch and his breath quickens, how his cock seems to thicken inside of him.

“Damn. I’m gonna…” Jared starts and pulls out abruptly, rips the condom off and looms over Jensen, his fist a blur on his dick. Jensen finds himself transfixed, staring at the swollen, angry red head of Jared’s cock as Jared thumbs at it, bucks into his own hand. Jared kneels between Jensen’s legs, buries two fingers into Jensen’s sloppy, used hole. He doesn’t move, just keeps them there as he comes, long strings of spunk falling on Jensen’s lower stomach, dripping down the length of his dick.

Jensen’s wasted, can’t move or speak or hardly think. He can only watch as Jared kisses the bruise he left high up on his thigh, brushes the hair out of his face, starts to gather his clothes from the floor and get dressed.

Before he makes his way toward the door, Jared says, “Remember,” and traces the shape of his teeth on Jensen’s leg.

“Hey Jared?” He shifts against the mattress, stretches to relieve the satisfyingly sore muscles in his legs and back.

“Yeah?” Jared pauses, glances over his shoulder with one hand on the doorknob.

“Next time, don’t call me ‘baby’.”

Without hesitation, Jared turns and faces him full-on, his hands clasped behind his back. He bows his head in a way that is both a challenge and calmly submissive. “Yes, sir.”

 

\--fin

Thanks for reading!  



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